


The Stories Behind The Stars

by Grumpy_Bubble_Tea



Category: ARMS (Video Game)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-09
Updated: 2017-09-16
Packaged: 2018-11-29 13:58:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11442327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grumpy_Bubble_Tea/pseuds/Grumpy_Bubble_Tea
Summary: The Origin stories of each ARMS fighter, based on canon information and personal headcanons.





	1. The Bouncer

It began in New York City. The Big Apple. 

 Whenever a child in the world is born, there is the chance that they may get the ARMS ability. He was one of the children who would have it. Born with brown hair, beautiful blue eyes inherited from his mother, and a contagious smile. He hadn't realized it when he was a newborn, but he was destined for greatness. If the excitement of a new baby and the smile he was wearing on his face didn't give it away, the spirals in his eyes said everything. His parents named him Peter. 

* * *

 

  ** _When he turned 6_** , Peter discovered his love for boxing. It coincided with the popular ARMS sport, which was just as popular as boxing, if not more, and there was a sports facility not too far from his house either. He begged his parents to sign him up for classes. It made him happy, but it was certainly a dangerous sport. His mother was not pleased when he ran into the kitchen of their apartment yelling about it, early in the morning. Both of his parents were tired, but Peter, as usual, was filled with energy. 

"Doesn't it look cool, Mommy! You get to stand up in that big ring and fight in front of **_MILLIONS_** of people!" 

He smiled, imitating a boxer, punching the air around him. His mother sighed, picking up his lunchbox (which was also boxing themed, it was made of metal and had two boxing gloves on the front, with a small boxing ring under them), and put it in his backpack. She bent down to Peter's height and sighed, looking him in the eyes. 

"Sweetie, I'm glad that you like it, but I...I don't want you involved in that."

He stopped and looked at her, disappointment in his eyes. His brows furrowed and arms dropped to his sides. 

"Why not?" 

She gave a weak smile to him, picking up his backpack and putting it on him. 

"I don't want you to get hurt. Boxing isn't the safest thing you could do. Oh, I know! Why don't you be a swimmer? Or, instead of sports, you could be a teacher, like your mommy." 

He frowned and stepped away from her. 

 "I wanna do boxing, Mommy! I wanna be a boxer when I grow up! I wanna be the best in the world! I can do it!" 

His father, who had been at the kitchen sink, washing the dirty plates from that morning's breakfast, chimed in. 

 "...Maybe boxing isn't such a bad idea. We can sign you up for lessons after school today. How's that sound, kiddo?" 

 Peter beamed, jumping up and down. He hugged his father and smiled up at him. His mother watched the two with absolute disbelief. 

 "Thanks, Daddy! I'm gunna do great! I'll be all over T.V.! I'm gunna win a million champion belts! You guys will get to see me on T.V! Just like all the other fighters!" 

 His father smiled and hugged him back, doing his best to avoid getting his soapy, wet hands on the boy's brand new shirt. When his father let go, he reached for a paper towel and dried his hands before tossing it into the trash can by the table. He patted Peter's head, causing the boy to look up at him. His father smiled, poking the child's nose. 

"Let's get you to school."

Peter nodded, shouting about telling all his friends about his soon-to-be boxing career, and ran to the front door of the apartment. 

"You're not being serious, right?" 

His mother stood up, putting her hands on her hips. 

"Of course I am. Let him be happy." 

* * *

 

**_At the age of 9_** , Peter got into his very first fight in school. He had been taking boxing for 3 years at that point in time, and his mother was threatening to prematurely end his boxing career as punishment. They sat in her car, Peter looking out of the window. It was 12:56 in the afternoon. Typically, a 4th grader his age would be in school. For him, though, he was on his way home. Leaving school early was always fun.

Unless you were leaving early because you got into trouble. The Principal of the school was ** _not_ ** happy to hear one of her students was in a fight, even if he was protecting someone. Which, by the way, the Principal didn't believe at all. It was Wednesday, and the Principal asked that Peter not come to school for the remainder of the week as punishment. Peter thought that was ridiculous, but he didn't want to cause any more trouble for himself or his mother. He just let it go, accepting that he'd lost the argument. His mother was called and asked to pick him up from school. 

"I can't believe you did this, Peter! What's gotten into you? You've never done anything like this before, I just don't get why you have to start this kind of behavior now!"

He looked up at her frantically, hoping he wouldn't upset his mother any further.

"It wasn't my fault, Momma! I was trying to help the girl who was getting teased on the playground! I just wanted to see her smile! I just wanted those mean boys to be nice to her! They're always being mean to me and everyone else in our class!"

She stopped the car at the sudden red light. She looked back, a mixture of anger, disappointment...and some other kind of pain in her eyes.

"I know that losing your father has put a lot of stress on both of us. I know that you've been going through a lot, and you're still young. You don't know how to handle what you've been feeling because of him no longer being with us. I'm sorry, Peter."

He looked back at the window, the reminder of his dad suddenly making him feel far worse than he had a moment ago. Did him only having one parent really cause him to lash out on those boys at recess? He didn't think that had anything to do with it. Although, he technically still had two parents, it's just that one was--

"I'm sorry, Mommy. I won't do it again, I promise."

She turned back to face forward, watching the light go from red to green. Before she stepped on the gas pedal, she looked at him in the mirror that hung near the top of the windshield.

"I know. You're a good kid, Peter...Let's just put this whole situation behind us." 

Peter nodded in understanding, and hoped the Principal wouldn't still be upset with him when he returned to school. He hoped that poor girl would be okay without anyone to stand up for her. The whole situation really was unfair, at least it was from Peter's perspective and understanding of it. He spent the entire car ride thinking about the mean kids who were picking on her, and hoping they'd get in some sort of trouble for their behavior too. It didn't seem like they would from the way the Principal spoke to them in the office.  

When they finally got home, Peter and his mother walked up the steps to their apartment, silent the entire time. When they into their home, his mother sat on the couch of the living room, looking loss, hopeless, and drained. Peter sat on the floor and turned on the television. There was a short, yellow man on the screen who Peter had seen before. It was Biff, that commentator for the ARMS league. Peter liked the ARMS league, but he knew he didn't have ARMS and couldn't be apart of it. Boxing was the closest he could get to it. That wasn't the only reason why he liked boxing, but it did play a big part of his love for the sport. Biff went on about some upcoming matches, and then had an interview with Max Brass, another famous whom Peter recognized and knew of. 

Peter looked back at his mother, who had been watching him and the television the entire time. She looked Peter in the eyes. Didn't it seem like almost every ARMS fighter who had reportedly 'woken up with ARMS' had those spirals in their eyes? Maybe she was just tired from everything going on in their lives. Surely, Peter's spirals didn't mean anything...Right?

* * *

 

**_A week after Peter turned 13_** , he was woken up in the middle of the night. Shouting, glass breaking, and sobbing could be heard from the living room. He hopped out of bed, stumbling slightly due to him having just woken up and still being half-asleep, and walked out of his room. The closer he got to the living room, the better the yelling could be heard. He peeked around the corner of the hallway, which had a perfect view of the situation. His mother was the one sobbing. She was the one doing most of the screaming. Who was that man, though? Peter could almost completely recognize him, but it felt like it'd been years since he'd seen someone with that appearance. Before Peter could say a word, his mother picked up the television remote and violently threw it at the man in front of her. He dodged it and sighed, almost like he could predict she'd do something like that, like he knew how she was when she was upset.

"How ** _dare_ ** you suddenly come in here?! **_I don't care_** if you're Peter's father, ** _I don't care_** if we used to be married! **_You abandoned him! You abandoned me!_** You gave us up! You let him down! You're the reason why Peter is always so stressed out! He spends _hours_ at that stupid gym you signed him up for! He comes home every night with bruises, claiming that he's fine! He isn't! You let him get into that! The only reason why I don't take him out of boxing is because I feel like it's the only connection he has to you. That shouldn't be the only way that your own son can connect with you. A son and his father's relationship should never be like that."

It was his dad. He was overjoyed to see him, but at the same time, didn't want to see him. Why did he ever leave in the first place? _Why was he trying to come back?_

Before the man could say a word, Peter walked into the room, capturing the attention of both his parents. He stepped over the glass of shattered vases that he could only assume were thrown by his mother. He put his hand into his mom's, and began walking back into the hallway where their bedrooms were. She hesitantly followed him, his father not too far behind. He opened the door to his mother's bedroom, flipping the light switch so they could see. Peter guided his mom over to her bed, releasing her hand to pull the covers. He laid in the middle of the bed and patted the spaces beside him so they could be filled with his parents' presence. His mother was hesitant. His father laid in the space to his left without a second though. Maybe he really did miss his son. 

She opened her mouth to speak, but Peter beat her to it. 

"Please lay down with us, Mom. I'm tired. I don't wanna see you fight anymore." 

She sighed, looking to his father and then to him. She laid to the right of him. 

"I'm sorry, Peter."

"It's okay..." The drowsiness was settling back in. The softness of the bed and the comfort of both his parents being with him again relaxed him so much, he couldn't help but be reminded of how tired he was. It was the middle the night, too. He couldn't help slipping back into a dream. Even if he was barely involved, their argument was having some toll on him too. He felt physically and emotionally drained. 

"G'night, Mom...G'night, Dad..."

Before he heard a response from either parent, his eyes were closed. The sunlight shining in through the blinds of the bedroom window woke him up. Neither of his parents were beside him anymore. When he got out of their bed and walked down the hall, the mess in the living room was gone. His mother was in the kitchen, making breakfast, which smelled like pancakes, and two glasses of apple juice were sitting on the table, as normal. His father was nowhere to be seen. Maybe he didn't have any intention of staying, and just wanted to assure his son that he wasn't dead. Peter bet his mother almost wished he was. 

* * *

 

**When Peter was 15 years old,** he started spending every day at the gym. He practiced boxing every day and night. The facility he worked out at held competitions regularly, and he'd often participate. He didn't always win, but he always carried a positive attitude, and would always at least be one of the top 3 fighters. He wasn't the absolute best, but he tried his absolute best, and that was enough for him. 

The room was the size of a high school gymnasium, with lights hanging from the ceiling and different sets of equipment set up everywhere. There were weights, stationary bikes, punching bags, and, most notably, a boxing ring. The ring itself was in the middle of the room while all the other equipment was set up around it, with necessary space in between everything. Peter wasn't the only fighter there, of course, over the years he'd seen and met different people at the gym. The one thing that always stuck with them was that spring-like attitude. He could bounce back from any bad situation. He had the positive, optimistic attitude you'd only find in fictional characters and young children.

The gym had televisions set up throughout it, and often had music playing from speakers that were built into the ceiling, much like the lights. The televisions would always have ARMS fights on. It seemed like no matter where Peter went, the ARMS league was being talked about. It was a world-famous international fighting league, and he supposed it was strongly related to boxing as well. He guessed it sorta made sense that ARMS fights, of all things in the world, would be on in a gym. 

He could sometimes hear the commentator during the matches and the voices of the fighters and crowds from the televisions. Of course, it was difficult when he was in a large room with music playing, people talking, and when he was trying to focus on fighting. He didn't want to end up getting a black eye or busted lip because a T.V. distracted him. His coach wouldn't like that either. 

Something about the ARMS league spoke to him, though. Something about it just intrigued him. Whenever he talked about it to anyone he was either ignored or looked at as though he was crazy for being so enthusiastic. The only person who would really, truly listen to him was Adele. 

Peter met Adele when they were in elementary school. He didn't see her too often anymore because he was now in high school, and she was still in middle school, but they did see each other around town. Adele often visited him at the gym, and he often visited her at the park where she could be heard singing. She didn't do it for money, just simply because she enjoyed it. She had a beautiful voice too. If she ever became an idol, Peter, and many others, would buy her albums in a heart beat. She was the girl Peter had saved from the bullies in the school yard years ago. Much like Peter, Adele had blue eyes, but she had blonde hair instead of brown. They both had the spiral-shaped irises, and they both shared an almost unhealthy interest in the ARMS league. It wasn't uncommon to catch Adele and Peter chatting away around town about it. Adele even considered doing a cover of the ARMS league's theme song. She always joked about it becoming so popular, it would become the official theme of the ARMS league. Both kids agreed that would be truly awesome. Impossible, but awesome. 

One Saturday afternoon, when Adele wasn't busy, she came by the gym to see Peter. As usual, he was bouncing around the ring, throwing punches, and blocking attacks like a pro. Adele watched with amazement, standing beside the ring and clapping for him. She jumped up and down, chanted, smiled, and cheered him on like an actual cheerleader. She was like the kid version of a soccer mom. The vision of the soon-to-be captain of the cheer team in high school. When the match ended, she clapped for him. Once he got out of the ring, the two did their signature secret handshake (which they had designed themselves), and sat on a nearby bench. Peter took a sip of his water bottle, looking flushed and exhausted. Adele laughed and began talking. 

"Peter, you looked like a real ARMS fighter out there!" 

He giggled putting his water bottle down. "You really think so? I looked _that_ cool?"

"Yes! You were blocking punches and throwing punches, the other guy couldn't land a single hit on you! That was awesome!" 

Peter blushed, smiling. He didn't think he was _that_ good. It was interesting to imagine himself as an ARMS fighter, though. He was just about to respond to her compliment when the opponent he had just gone against approached the two. He had brown eyes, brown hair, and he looked mean. At least the expression on his face did. He seemed to carry a threatening and uncomfortable atmosphere. 

"Ain't ya little old to be comparin' ya self to that dumb ARMS league? That whole thing is a joke! Besides, even if ya did have ARMS, which ya don't, How d'ya expect to win any matches? Ya boxin' skills suck. Ya only beat me by pure luck. If we ever rematched, I'd knock ya down so quick ya wouldn't know what hit ya."

Peter and Adele both looked at each other, then back at the rude boy. Peter knew exactly what was going to happen. This was going to get them both in trouble. Just as he had expected, Adele stood up, looking the stranger in the eyes. She may have been smaller and younger than him, but she had far more confidence and attitude.  Peter knew exactly where this was going. 

"Who do you think you're talking to? Peter's one of the best fighters in this entire gym! If he had ARMS, he'd be the best ARMS fighter in the world! You're just being mean because you know he's better than you!" 

Peter sighed, looking to the boy. He saw this was quickly going downhill, and would inevitably end with him either miraculously winning again or getting his butt handed to him and being bounced out of the ring like a spring. 

"Is that so? Let's fight now, then! I'm ready wheneva ya are!" 

Peter figured he wasn't going to be able to escape a situation like this. 

"Scared, huh? I don't blame ya. We still gotta fight though, that'll teach ya friend to keep her trap shut!" The boy grabbed Peter's arm and dragged him towards the ring. Peter looked back at Adele, who was now wide-eyed and looking as though she suddenly regretted every word that had come out of her mouth. She mouthed, "I'm sorry."

Why was he always letting her write checks he couldn't always cash?

Once the boy had dragged Peter all the way to the ring, and managed to get him in, he put Peter in one corner and stood in the opposite one to him. The boy looked like he was just aching to tear Peter apart. Peter did not like that at all. 

"Shouldn't we get coach? I think it'd be best to have an adult watching the fight." Peter said it as a way to at least stall the fight so if things got too bad, coach could save him before he needed to be hospitalized. 

"Why? Afraid I'll beat ya so bad ya won't be able to fight again? Ya should be." 

Adele ran over to the ring, rushing to Peter's corner. "I shouldn't have gotten you into this. If you really don't wanna fight, we can leave!" 

"It's too late now. I think if we run, he'll chase after us." Peter whispered to her. His opponent was growing impatient. 

"Are we gunna fight or what?!" Without a warning or indication of the start of the match, the boy was rushing towards Peter and throwing punches like there was no tomorrow. 

Peter dodged and blocked as many as he could. Was this kid trying to win a boxing match or just trying to genuinely hurt Peter? He honestly couldn't tell. Adele began cheering Peter on again, hoping this fight wouldn't end with Peter in a wheelchair, or worse, a coma. The boy kept throwing punches and eventually, Peter got tired of playing defensively. Maybe the only way to teach him to be nice was to teach him what it felt like when others didn't. 

Peter blocked another hit from the boy, and aimed one right for his face. It hit him square in the nose, and the boy flinched at the sudden pain. His nose was bruised and turning all shades of purple. Peter thought that would teach him a lesson he needed, but it only made him want to fight more. The boy kicked Peter down, and the back of Peter's head fell right onto the floor of the ring. He could feel pain and suddenly his senses were far more sensitive than before. The lights were brighter, Adele's words were muffled, and he couldn't focus on anything. 

Was he hearing coach's voice? It must've been. The boy stopped fighting and had a look of terror on his face. Peter heard Adele's voice getting closer as well as coach's. His head hurt too much for him to really understand anything that was happening. Maybe this fight really had hurt him. Maybe he should've tried to run, like Adele had suggested. 

* * *

_**Peter was 18**_ when he moved away from home. He got an apartment not too far from the one that belonged to his parents. One morning, roughly a week after he moved in to his new home, he woke up to quite the surprise. His arms felt heavier than before, and when he looked down at them he realized why. They weren't arms, they were ARMS.

...And they were made of springs...? 

Not exactly what he expected. 

He was shocked, but then he thought about how amazing it was. He just had to tell someone. He hopped out of bed and tried to grab his phone, but he accidentally punched the entire nightstand it was sitting on over, and broke the lamp that was next his phone. This was going to take some getting used to. Then, his eyes widened when he realized he could join the ARMS league!

All those years of watching Biff, Max Brass, and so many others on television, and now he could join them. He could become known around the world, and inspire younger kids, just like he was. 

Although, it would help if he could actually pick up his phone to at least call the ARMS league and notify them that he had ARMS. That was going to be difficult. Extremely, annoyingly difficult. He couldn't even manage to call Adele and at least let her know that he now had this ability. He sighed, testing his patience, and attempting to pick it up off the wooden floor again. It fell. He tried again. It fell again. He just couldn't get a good grip on his phone at all. 

He sat beside it and tried using his toes to pick it up. He managed to get a grip on his phone between the bottom of his two feet, but how was he going to actually make the phone call?

Okay, let's try this again.

He put the phone down, pressed the power button with his right big toe, and filled out the pass code using toe (which, by the way, he had to redo 5 times). He managed to get to the number pad on his phone, after accidentally pressing other apps roughly 6 times, and dialed in the phone number of the ARMS league. He knew it by heart, seeing as though he'd been watching the ARMS league for years now. He waited anxiously for the call to come through, even biting his lip as he waited. It was a bad habit of his, but he couldn't help feeling as excited as he was. 

"Hello, This is the ARMS League Hotline, How can I help you?" 

Peter froze for a moment, scared, and unsure of what to do or say. 

"Hello?"

He knew if he didn't respond soon, the person would probably hang up. Suddenly, his future flashed before him. Being apart of a world famous fighting league sounded awesome. It was a once in a lifetime opportunity. Peter was ready. 

"Hello? My name's Peter, and I woke up with ARMS...?" 

That's where his bright future began. All this time, the spirals in his eyes were for more than decoration. 

* * *

 

**_Now, at the age of 20_** , Peter was an international ARMS league fighter. He took the world by storm every time he won a match, and he'd never been happier in his life. He's met so many amazing people through the ARMS league, and he's become so happy. Not to mention his best friend, Adele, is by his side too. And, as she predicted, she's made some amazing songs too. 

Although, Nowadays, he's probably better known as ** _Spring Man._**  

 


	2. The Airess

 Whenever a child is born, there is the possibility they may have the ARMS ability. Not everyone is born with it, but those who are can participate in an amazing competition called the ARMS league. One key way of being able to tell whether or a not a child will have this ability, is through their eyes. Spiraled irises, to be exact. Adele was born with them, and had them her whole life. The actual ARMS themselves, wouldn't appear until later on, though. 

* * *

 

 

**_When Adele was only 5,_ ** she discovered she had a passion for singing. She could be heard singing the lyrics to songs on the radio, commercials, songs in some of the shows she watched, musicals, pretty much anything. She loved music, and always sang, even if she often misheard the lyrics. If she wasn't singing she was humming or asking one of her parents to replay a song she liked. Music was her everything. She was going to have her first recital at school, and she couldn't be happier. One the car ride there, however, it began to rain. 

"Momma, you can't say that!"

Her mother looked back at her, sighing. She had accidentally cursed, again, while trying to navigate through the rain. At first, it was light and hardly noticeable, but it picked up quickly. The window wipers were moving rapidly across the windshield as more heavy drops of rain came down from the sky. Cars were turning their lights on as they drove, and even Adele could notice some slipping and having trouble driving through the bad weather. Not even a few minutes had gone by before thunder began. Lighting was quick to follow. The sudden change in weather scared Adele and her mother. 

"I'm sorry for cursing, but you know you shouldn't repeat it, right?" Her mom looked up to the mirror near the windshield. She watched Adele nod from the back seat and smiled.

Her mother turned on the radio to distract Adele from the storm around them. It seemed to work, as the girl could be heard singing some of the words to songs, and humming the music during instrumental parts. Her little legs kicked to the music, and if she didn't sing, she'd be lip syncing. She couldn't get enough of it. 

After a few songs, a commercial break came on. Adele pouted, knowing it'd be a couple of minutes before more songs played. She looked down at her pastel pink dress, white tights, and black dress shoes, then at herself in the slight reflection in the window. Her hair was tied into a ponytail with a pink bow her other mother had given to her. Her bright, blue eyes shined in the window's reflection too. She was excited for the recital, but something told her they weren't going to make it there. She just had a feeling that the storm around them was causing too much trouble for them to even make it to the school. 

It wasn't too long before she realized she was right. 

After almost an hour of driving around, her mother stopped in the parking lot of a nearby store. She looked into the backseat. "Adele...I think we should go home."

The young girl looked at her mother with disbelief. She had a feeling they wouldn't be able to make it to the recital, but she was still hoping they'd make it there. She was hoping everything would work out for her. 

 "Momma, I wanna go to the recital!"

"I know, Adele, but it's raining too much. We need to get home safely. I have a feeling the storm will only get worse." 

"It's not fair!" She crossed her arms, tears forming in her eyes. In an instant, they began rolling down her cheeks and her nose turned the same shade of pink as her bow. 

"I'm sorry, Adele. Let's go home and watch t.v., okay?" 

Her mother turned forward again, and began driving home. She was right with her prediction, the weather only got worse as they drove towards their house. She tried to enjoy the car ride, assuring herself that going home was the right choice, but Adele's crying made her feel terrible. Why did she have to sacrifice her child's happiness for her safety? They both felt terrible the entire ride. Once they got home, Adele's mother had to pick her up and carry her inside. Her other mother was most likely still at work, as the house was just as empty as it was when they left for the recital. The two came into the master bedroom where Adele's mother turned on the television. The ARMS league was on, and showcasing fights with commentating from the one and only Biff. ARMS' trusty commentator. It took sometime, but eventually the TV distracted Adele from her disappointment of not being able to go perform. Her crying stopped, and the two spent the rest of evening watching the show together. 

* * *

 

 

**_At the age of 6,_** Adele met one of her best friends. One who'd she would trust and hang out with for the rest of her life. It happened at recess, on a Wednesday. It was a beautiful sunny day, not a single cloud in the sky, and the birds were chirping loudly. Butterflies and lady bugs could be seen all over the schoolyard as well as caterpillars and even a few spiders. The sounds of children's laughter and joyful screams filled the air. Adele was on the playground, running towards the jungle gym, when she accidentally bumped into a boy. He had brown eyes and brown hair, and a mean look in his eyes. He didn't seem like the type of person to forgive anyone for anything. Even something as small as a clash on the playground. 

She fell backwards, right into the wood chips that covered the ground of the play area. She quickly got back up, brushing some of them out of her skirt and socks. Those things were annoying, and they felt like little splinters in her body. The boy had barely even flinched from the collision, but still looked unhappy. She looked him in the eyes, intimidated immensely. His friends, who had been standing next to him, talking, didn't look too pleased either. 

"I'm sorry! Are you okay?"

The grabbed her by the wrist, tightening his grip so she flinched in pain.

"Watch where you're going, pipsqueak! What kind of fool goes running around a playground like that?" He was obviously older than her, maybe 7 or 8. They attended a school that ran from Kindergarten to 5th grade. Not all the older students were mean like this, but Adele still didn't like them. The older kids not only towered over her, but intimidated her and practically glared at her in the hallways around the school building. She didn't have much of a reason to like any of them. 

"It was an accident! I didn't mean to bump into you! I'm sorry!" She pulled her wrist out of his grip, holding it with her other hand. It was red from the pressure he had put on it. She looked into his eyes, and he jumped back. 

" _ **What**_ is wrong with your eyes?" 

She looked confused. "What's wrong with my eyes?"

"I'm asking _you_ , dumb-dumb! Your eyes have these weird circle-spinny shape! What kind of freak are you?!" 

She flinched at his words. "There's nothing wrong with my eyes! Dumb-dumb! They've always been like this!" 

"You're a ** _freak!_** " He pushed her down, into the wood chips, and tears starting forming in her eyes. "Oh, look now! The freak's gunna cry! Go ahead, I dare you! Cry, weirdo!"

She didn't want to, but tears started rushing down her cheeks. They always did anytime something didn't go her way. Before she even realized it, a crowd of students had formed around them. Some were cheering him on, some where yelling at him to leave her alone, while others just stood and watched the drama unfold. Adele wished she could just disappear. She wished someone, anyone, would just save her. 

And, for the first time ever, her wishes were answered. 

"Leave her alone or else!"

All attention was turned to a boy with brown hair and blue eyes. He helped Adele up her feet, and stood in front of the mean boy. He did not look happy at all. They glared each other down.

"Oh, Look! It's another freak! His eyes have that spinny-shape too!" He and his friends laughed at Adele and the blue-eyed boy. The rude boy went to hit Adele's helper, in an attempt to knock him to the ground too. Much to everyone's surprise, he blocked the punch, and gave the bully one of his own. Square in the nose. The boy burst into tears. Next thing Adele knew, the boy who helped her was holding her hand and running across the playground to avoid any further trouble with the boy and his friends. Much to their dismay, however, a teacher was already there. Everyone was sent to the principal's office.

While waiting outside the office, Adele saw the boy who helped her come out with his mother. She hopped out of her chair and approached him. 

"What's your name?"

"Peter."

"Are you in trouble?"

 Peter's mother chimed in. "Yes, he is. He'll talk to you later, okay?" 

Peter looked down, away from both girls. Adele nodded in understanding and watched the two walk away.

* * *

 

**_A few months after Adele turned 11,_** she joined an after school club. It was her first club ever, and her first club in middle school. Peter had encouraged her to join, and her parents fully supported her. She was nervous, though. Just because she loved singing didn't mean the people around her would love her singing. It was tryouts for an upcoming musical. All she had to do was go up in front of a crowd and sing. She always sang. All the time, everywhere, no matter who was around.

So why did she feel so nervous now?

Maybe because it was so different from any other time she had sung. Singing for your friend, or your parents, or a few strangers in the park was okay. Singing competitively, for a spot in a school musical, in front of people she'd see every single day for the rest of the school year was _not_ okay. She was panicking inside. She was terrified inside. She felt horrible, like she was going to throw up. Luckily, she didn't, but she felt like she would. She was thinking about walking away. Every part of this felt wrong. She felt uncomfortable signing up for the audition, she felt uncomfortable talking about it with others, and she felt uncomfortable entering the auditorium of the school. 

Singing for herself was fun. Singing to please others was stressful. That was the difference. That was why she felt terrible. 

She was singing to please people, not to please herself. She didn't think she'd be able to. 

There was a long line of other students in front of her. Some were there for the same role she wanted, while many others were auditioning for other roles. She honestly didn't want to feel so upset. She didn't even have to sing a song from the musical, she just had to sing a song she knew. One that would show off her singing ability the best she could. She chose a song that included a high note because she knew she could hit it. She knew she could do it, she just didn't _feel_ like she could do it. That changed everything. 

The more she thought about it, the more time passed. The more time passed, the more people auditioned. The more people auditioned, the closer it got to her turn to sing. 

It didn't make her feel any better than before. The only thing keeping her going was Peter sitting among the crowd of students. He promised to watch her perform and support her, just like she always did with his boxing matches. She really appreciated that. She honestly did. 

When her turn did arrive, she slowly walked onto stage, taking in the faces of everyone in the crowd. Some people she knew, some people she didn't, others she had seen around the hallways at school, but had never really spoken to. Peter smiled at her and put his thumb in the air. He had more confidence in her than she did. The music teacher sat in the front row of the crowd with a brown clipboard in her hand. 

"Are you Adele?"

She nodded in response. 

"Alright. Start whenever you're ready, okay?" 

Adele took a deep breath and picked up the microphone on the mic stand at the edge of the stage. Since it was a song of every student's choice, the school didn't have the music she needed for her performance. She just had to imagine the instruments and beats in her head. 

_Just ignore the audience. Focus on yourself._

She held her arms over chest, above each other, like a butterfly. She imagined the music starting. First, her hands jumped forward, in tune to the first beat of the song, then they came over head and flowed down to her side. She gracefully moved them, almost in a slow-motion manner, her right arm up in the air and her left arm down, facing the floor. Then, in tune to the music in her head, she flowed a movement through her right hand, her right arm, her shoulders, and then to her left arm and left hand. 

She did a spin, then pointed her right arm outwards, facing the left. Then switched hands in tune to the non-existent movement. She turned to face forward and flowed her arms again before turning to her right. It was time to sing. She faced the crowd. She raised her mic and the words just spilled from her mouth. 

"I could tell from the moment I saw you, you are truly something special. I could feel it deep in your beautiful eyes, my heart went to vibrant from dull. 

Fly like a butterfly, high up in the blue sky, as the wind acts as your graceful guide, 

Fly away, away, so that I can see you in the sun's rays, and reach you with all my heart...! 

Let's start fresh, just you and me. 

Please don't let me down, dear, sweet love that I envy.

I'm gunna show you how I've been feeling. I won't wait any longer...!" 

The instrumental part of the song kicked in, and she began dancing again. Right leg out, then back in. Left leg out, then back in. Right leg out, then she moved her hip to a beat and spun again. Her hands raised in the air, then dropped to another beat in her mind. She blew a kiss to the crowd. The spirit of the song completely replaced the butterflies in her stomach. Before she knew it, the instrumental was over again and it was time to use her voice. She'd normally sing the 2nd verse, but the audition had to be kept short. 

"I've been waiting for this all my life, and I'm with you, who's always kept right by my side.

I'll make it come true, just like I somehow always do! Whoa~" The song would typically lead into a dance break, but it had to be shortened for the audition. 

_Take a deep breathe, Adele. It was almost time for another high note._

"Wake up from the dreams, Yes, I do believe my feelings for you will be soon be seen. 

I hope we can build a beautiful future together. 

You are far more than enough _for me~!_  " 

It lead into a high note which caused an applause to erupt from the crowd. There'd typically be a second high note but the audition had to be kept short. It lead into a final dance break, which lead into her final pose. The crowd went crazy. Even louder than it was for the other students. Even students who were trying out for the same part in the play were cheering for her. Adele had never felt happier. This was easier than she thought. 

* * *

 

_**At the age of 15,**_ Adele had just finished her first concert. Her first as real singer, in the real world, producing real music, to be bought for real money. She started performing for live audiences after school and occasionally over the weekend. 

Her songs sold faster than she expected them to, and she soon opted to graduate early so she could pay more attention on her music career and stress less about her school one. She was still young and still busy, so she had only released a mini-album, with 7 songs on it. She had started writing a full-length album too. She never thought she'd get this far with her music, but she was happy she did. Peter had even told her about how he bought her songs on iTunes and started using some in his workout playlist when he goes to the gym. Adele had never been happier. She was even getting her own record company, Ribbonics Records. Of course, that wouldn't happen for another year or so, because things like that costed some seriously large amounts of money, and she still had to have _some_ focus on school. 

Even at busy times like these, she still had her own personal hobbies and interests to indulge in. After coming home from the concert and eating dinner, Adele went upstairs to her bedroom. She showered, changed into pajamas, and laid on her bed, using her laptop. An ARMS live stream was on and her concert ended just in time for her to watch it. Perfect! Peter was three years older than her, and at this point in time, he had gotten ARMS. Adele was so happy for him. He told her he was going to spend some time training, getting used to his ARMS, before actually joining the league. 

Adele picked up her phone, texting Peter was soon she could. 

"Peter!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

"?"

"There's an ARMS livestream on rn!"

She posted a link to it in the chat. He began watching it too.

They spent the rest of the evening watching it and talking about it in their texts. Before either knew, it was already 2 in the morning. They said their goodbyes for the night. Adele turned off her devices and plugged them up to charge. She went into her closet, where she had ribbons lying on the floor. She had bought them to add into her dance routines for performances, to make them prettier, and more fun to do. She stayed up until nearly 4 in the morning practicing. She was so tired, that she just laid in bed with the ribbons lazily left on the floor. Before she knew it, she was asleep.

* * *

 

**_Adele woke up the morning of her 16 birthday_** to quite the surprise. She sat up on her bed, reaching to her dresser to get he phone, when she realized her arms were...ARMS. They were made of ribbons, the same color as the ones she started putting into her dance routines. She couldn't believe it!

She had to call Peter. She had to let him know that she'd be joining him in the ARMS league. She reached for her phone, and ended up knocking it onto the floor instead of picking it up. Hm. She hopped out of bed, and reached for her phone again, instead hitting the dressed beside it. She tried again, and nearly knocked the entire dresser over. It tilted on it's side for a moment, like it was going to hit the floor, but fell back into it's original position.

That would've been a disaster. 

She tried to pick her phone a fourth time, and nearly knocked a hole in the floor. This wasn't going to work out as she had hoped it would. 

"Momma! Mommy! I need help!" 

Before she knew it, both of her parents were in the doorway of her bedroom, wide-eyed at the sight of her ARMS.

"...Can you get my phone for me? Please?"

* * *

 

**_Not too long after she turned 17,_** Adele joined the ARMS league alongside Peter, who now went by Spring Man. She couldn't believe he chose such a ridiculous name. There, she'd meet tons of other amazing people, and become known around the world. Her music was given quite the boost, too. She even sang a cover of the official ARMS theme, which then _became_ the official theme of the ARMS league. Her music and status as a fighter in an international fighting league gave her quite the reputation.

Although, you probably know her better as **_Ribbon Girl._**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song Ribbon Girl sings at her school audition is Navillera by Gfriend. It may sound strange in the story because I had to translate the lyrics into English, and still make them rhyme.


	3. The Student of Stealth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning! This chapter mentions child abuse!
> 
> I wanted to put this here so anyone who is uncomfortable with reading that would know to avoid reading it here. 
> 
> I also used Google Translate for all of the Japanese used in the story. I can't speak or read Japanese fluently, so apologies for any errors.
> 
> I also had really bad writer's block while writing this, so apologies if it seems too short or not as well developed as the other chapters.
> 
> Just like with the other chapters, I may go over this one again and re-write or fix anything I don't like in the future.

Over the years, more and more people with the ARMS ability have been discovered. Different people from different parts around the world have awaken to their ARMS ability, leading to more interest in and popularity for the ARMS league. The ARMS ability dates back to hundreds, even thousands of years ago, often noticed in people through the spirals in their eyes, and, of course, the stretchy ability in their ARMS. Takeo, another person with the ARMS ability, takes part in another practice that dates back to years in ancient time. Ninjutsu. Although, you can't always notice someone who practices it. The whole idea of being a ninja is to act without being seen.

* * *

 

 ** _Even from the young age of 6,_** Takeo knew what his future was going to be. What he'd dedicate his life to. The art of Ninjutsu had been practiced in his family for years, and he was the next in line to pursue it. Both his mother and father had a fond interest in it. There was even a room in their home where their weapons and tools were stored for safe keeping. Takeo wasn't always allowed in there, because he was still too young, but he knew that one day those weapons would be in his hands, and he'd be an expert at using them. 

He did have a long way to go before he'd be ready, though. The only problem was, however, that Ninjutsu wasn't exactly what Takeo _wanted_ to do. Sure, it seemed cool and interesting, and he want to honor his family and show respect to those he cared about, but Ninjutsu wasn't his passion. It wasn't what made him happy, and it wasn't what he could see himself enjoying for the rest of his life. Another problem that rose from this was that his one interest was the one thing he couldn't do. ARMS fighting. His parents, especially his father, scolded him day in and day out about spending hours watching ARMS fights. They worried it distracted him too much from what he should be focusing on. The one thing he didn't want to be apart of. Ninjutsu. 

Aside from ARMS fights and listening to boring lectures from his parents, he often spent his time reading, watching cartoons, or exploring outside. He lived in a rural area, surrounded by fields and woods. He'd go outside for hours, playing with the family's dog, admiring the trees and flowers. Sometimes, he'd even read out there. His parents would often go out with him too to give him space to "train". The most he did with them was climb up trees or run across the fields to build his strength and stamina, it wasn't anything too dangerous or intense. He didn't mind it too much, but hoped the training wouldn't get any more serious than that. He didn't want to be any more involved than that.

His parents even worked on getting him adjusted to schedules around training and schooling. Every morning, even on the weekends, even on days he didn't have school, he'd wake up at 6. He wouldn't go to sleep until 9 or 10 at night. He felt like nothing mattered more to them than him becoming a ninja, just like them. He hated it. He _almost_ hated them. 

He realize that he truly didn't like his parents one morning during breakfast. As normal, they were having miso soup, a soup that consisted of tofu, wakame, and scallion. It was a popular food throughout Japan, and Takeo ate it for breakfast almost everyday. His mother always made it for the three of them, and Takeo always ate all of it. He always ate every last bit of his food, and politely thanked both of his parents for it. He always listened to them as they spoke throughout the meal. He payed all attention to everything they did and would often clean up after them too. He even would help clean the house every day after breakfast too. He always did everything he could to show his respect for his parents. So, why did they treat him so badly?

They were sitting at the table together, eating away, when his father gave a look to his mother. They both exchanged looks to each other for a while, as if communicating with their eyes in a way Takeo couldn't quite understand yet. They then turned to him, who was watching them, expecting them to say or do something. His father put down his chop sticks, lying them vertically on the kitchen table. His mother did the same with hers, and his father spoke up. 

"Takeo."

"はい？" 

Takeo put down his chopsticks as well. 

"Your mother and I want to increase your Ninjutsu training. We think you're ready for something more intense and challenging. You're actually proving to be a quick learner, too, which is excellent. We can start today, when you're ready." 

His parents almost looked ecstatic, but Takeo knew this wasn't what he wanted. He hoped, with every part of his being, that he wouldn't upset them. 

"お父さん, 母....I don't wanna be a ninja. I wanna be an ARMS fighter, like the ones on TV! I wanna be able to fight on TV, and meet people from all over the world." 

"You _can't_ be an ARMS fighter. That entire league is a joke. Besides, you don't _have_ ARMS. You come from a long line of ninjas, Takeo. I won't let that be ruined by your selfish desires." 

"It isn't a joke, it's a fighting league that's all over the world! I don't want to be a ninja if it means I can't be an ARMS fighter like the ones on TV." 

His father's patience was quickly wearing thin. Takeo could see it in his eyes. He'd been scolded before, of course, growing up people do tons of bad things. The look in his father's eyes was different, though. As though this situation was far more serious than any other, and disobeying his parents would cause far worse consequences. 

"Takeo, you're _going_ to be a ninja. I don't care about that stupid ARMS league! It's a waste of time, and you'd be a disgrace to the family to pursue any such sport! No child of mine is going to be involved in that league, and you are going to be a ninja. It's final. I'm not _asking_ you what you want, I'm _telling_ you what's going to happen."

His mother stayed silent, allowing his father to speak to Takeo so harshly. 

 They spent the rest of the meal in absolute silence, Takeo too afraid to say anything else. His father and mother began his training right after the meal, and ended it around sunset. When Takeo returned to the living room to watch more ARMS matches, he was distraught to discover the television had been removed. His father took it out so Takeo would focus more on becoming a ninja. The ARMS league was the last thing his father cared about. To Takeo, it seemed like he was the last thing his father cared about. 

* * *

 

 ** _Not too long after Takeo turned 10,_** his mother began trusting him to go into town for groceries. It had been years since he'd begun real ninja training with his parents, and since the last time he was able to watch ARMS fights on his own. He'd ride into town on his bike and put any groceries he bought into the basket of it. One thing he loved about going into town was the technology. People had TV's in the windows of shops and radios set up at food stands. Takeo would always take a moment to listen to or watch fights. 

Whenever he came home late from shopping, his excuse would be the crowded markets. It made sense, many of the stores he went to were somewhat popular in the area. It would take time for him to find and buy everything, and then bring it all the way home on a bike. Sometimes, he had to make two or three trips in one day. It drove his father crazy when Takeo would come home as late as 9 or 10 pm from shopping. His father always bought his excuse, though. Even his mother believed in him. He felt terrible lying to them, but knew he wouldn't be able to stay up-to-date with the ARMS league if he didn't. He knew he wouldn't have access to the one thing that made him happy if he didn't. 

One day, however, his plan backfired. 

His grocery trips were cutting down on the amount of time he had to be trained. His father was not pleased. One Sunday afternoon, after Takeo had left the house for his shopping trip, his father followed him. Of course, he took a separate route, and he knew how to travel without being noticed by his son. At first, everything seemed okay. Takeo was going by different shops and stands, picking up everything he needed and doing his best to fit everything into the basket of his bicycle. His father was the one who gave him the shopping list, so he knew everything Takeo needed to pick up. Once he watched Takeo buy everything, he expected the boy to ride back home. Instead, Takeo stopped by a shop with several televisions in the window of it. His father noticed that they were broadcasting ARMS fights and would be doing so all day. His father disappeared into a nearby forest. 

Around sunset, Takeo began his trip home. The ride was typically an hour long. After roughly 10 minutes, the town began disappearing in the distance. It was completely out of sight once Takeo reached the woods. He had made a small path for himself, so it would be easy for him to navigate through it, the last time he rode down it. As he rode  along the path, he heard rustling in the bushes. He paused, looking around. He didn't see anyone or anything, but figured it was an animal looking for something to eat or just simply walking through. He began riding again, until the rustling became louder, as if it was getting closer to him. He rode faster, and noticed the rustling was getting louder. It was starting to scare him. He felt like his life was in danger, and pedaled as quickly as his legs could let him, going as far as he could. He was quickly running out of breath.

Towards the end of the path, the rustling stopped. It went silent. Takeo wasn't sure what happened, but he was relieved that it was over. 

Right as he got to the end of the trail, just as it turned into the road that lead into the rural area where he and his family  lived, his father stepped out of the undergrowth. Takeo was completely taken aback. 

He got off his bike and stood next to it, putting it up on it's stands. His father looked furious. 

His father stomped towards him and grabbed him by the wrist with as much pressure as he could. Takeo whimpered out in pain. 

 ** _"What makes you think you can disobey me like this?_** You've been _lying_ to me, _avoiding_ your training, and _wasting_ your time watching those _terrible_ ARMS fights! What kind of disgraceful waste of space are you?!"

He pushed the poor boy to the ground, then grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, which his mother had bought him. He threw Takeo down to the dirt and began cursing and screaming at him until he was in tears. He pulled Takeo up to his feet one more time, and hit him square in the face. Takeo was sobbing, bruises forming all over him. He was pushed down once again. His father pushed his bike down too, and kicked it into the bushes with thorns so Takeo would have trouble getting back home. 

"Your training is going to be _every day_ , _from sunrise to sunset._ It'll be much more intense then before. I don't care if you pass out, I don't care if you starve, I don't care if you lose sleep. _You can work yourself to death for all I care._ And, I'll be letting your mother know that you aren't ready to a task as simple as buying groceries. Pathetic. I won't let our family's reputation be ruined by _some boy_."

He left Takeo sobbing there. He didn't come home until later that evening when both of his parents had already gone to bed. From that day on, his training was just as harsh and unforgiving as the beating he took in the forest, _if not worse_. 

* * *

 

 _ **By the time Takeo turned 14,**_ he'd already gotten used to the bruises and scratches of becoming a ninja. After a while, it was hard to tell which bruises were from actual training and which were from his father's strict way of enforcement. His training had changed him a lot. He was good at hiding them, and good at staying silent about everything happening. Even his mother had refused to say anything about the pain inflicted by his father.

 Until one day she snapped against him. 

They were at home in the kitchen, and Takeo's father was going off on him for failing to complete a part of his training. All he had to do was manage to navigate his way through the fields behind their home without being heard or seen. Every time, he made the grass rustle too much, or caused their dog to bark which made too much noise. No matter what he did, it just wasn't good enough. His father yelled, cursed, and threatened the poor boy. After nearly an hour of trying to get it right, Takeo gave up. His father did not appreciate that at all. In his eyes, Takeo couldn't do anything right. 

" _What_  is wrong with you?!"

The man had Takeo in tears at the kitchen table. 

"Why can't you do anything right? **_Why are you so useless?!_** " 

He grabbed Takeo by the wrist, just like he had done years ago in the forest, and yanked him onto the wooden floor. His father picked up a wooden staff, a weapon Takeo used in the early stages of his training at home, and hit Takeo with it. The boy yelled out in pain, and his father raised it to hit him again, before the weapon was yanked out of his hands. 

His father turned in surprise to see his mother standing there, tears streaming down her cheeks. She took the shinai and hit Takeo's father with it. 

"Leave him alone! I'm _sick_ of you! _I'm sick of what you've been doing to him!_ Just _leave!_ " 

"What do you think _you're_ doing, _wench?_ You've stay silent for years, and _now_ you've decided you're going to actually doing something about this hopeless waste of space? You're just as ridiculous as he is. You know this is what he deserves. You've deserved some of the hits I've given you, too. Maybe if you two did something right, for once in your lives, I wouldn't have to teach you all so harshly." 

She whacked him again, and a third time. His father took the staff out of her grip and began swinging it at her. Takeo watched in horror as the two fought, throwing anything and everything they could grab in the kitchen. After several minutes of it, Takeo's dog ran into the room and began barking at his dad. She scratched and bit him on the legs several times, until his father kicked her to the side, and she smacked into the wall of the room. Takeo ran to pick her up and make sure she was okay. 

His father raised his voice again. 

"You two are _absolutely_ out of your minds! Maybe staying around here truly is pointless. Neither of you are worth my time." 

He stomped upstairs, and when he returned, he had all his belongings packed up. As he walked out of the doorway of the house, his mother yelled. 

"地獄で焼く!" 

That evening, for the first time in years, Takeo could sleep in peace. He'd continue training with his mother, but it wouldn't be nearly as violent or stressful as before. He never saw his father again. 

* * *

 

 ** _When Takeo was 15 years old,_** he met another ARMS enthusiast. An 8-year-old girl named Veronica. She was in the country with her father, visiting family. Takeo ran into her while out and about in the town he frequently shopped in. Since his father left, his mother let him go out to shop for the household again. This time around, he was allowed to stop and watch ARMS fights for as long as he wanted. 

While out, he saw a young girl approach the televisions. Any parents or guardians that may have been with her were nowhere to be seen, but she didn't seem upset in the slightest. She had a passion in her eyes as she watched the fighters on the small tv's, ooh-ing and ahh-ing as punches were thrown. She reminded Takeo of himself when he was her age, wanting nothing more than to connect with the ARMS league and be apart of it. She didn't have the spirals in her eyes, though, so she couldn't participate in the league, right? Maybe the two had more in common than Takeo had initially thought. He knew he didn't have a chance of joining the league, too. It was still nice to see it, though.

He hopped off his bike, which he normally sat on while watching the fights, and bent down to her height. She turned to look at him, confused. 

"ご両親はどこにいますか？" He asked it softly, trying not to scare her off or make her too uncomfortable. She turned and pointed to a man standing near a food stand. It seemed like he was looking around the crowd, searching for someone. Perhaps his daughter, who was calmly watching television as if wandering off in public was simply a normal thing she did. He certainly looked like her father. They had the same eyes and nose. They even both had a tuft of hair that stuck up, while every other part of their was brushed or combed into their respective styles. 

"ここで待ちなさい." The little girl nodded, and Takeo walked over to the man, tapping his shoulder to get his attention. The man looked down at Takeo out of curiosity, and Takeo pointed to the little girl who had returned her attention to watching the ARMS fights. The father sighed out of relief and thanked Takeo for finding her. They both walked back to her together, and the father put his hand in the little girl's. She looked up to him, smiled, and turned her attention back to the match. 

"彼女はARMSの戦いが好きですか？" Takeo asked the older man who looked down to his daughter and nodded. It seemed like ARMS fights were very important to her. She even copied the announcers voice, yelling, "Ready? ARMS!" every time a match began. She even screamed the, "K.O.!" and smiled at the winner of every match. Her father giggled whenever she spoke, and smiled at her enthusiasm. It was nice to see someone so happy about the ARMS league, even if she was much younger than him. It was nice to know he wasn't alone. 

Takeo bent down to her height and watched the television beside her. Another match was just about to begin. Biff popped up on screen and introduced the fighters for that fight. The television showed one female fighter, that, admittedly, Takeo hadn't seen before, but he did spend a good part of his life (involuntarily) away from the ARMS league. After her, Biff moved on to the next contender. 

"The Commish, Max Brass! Back to defend his title as Champion! Will his opponent win, or will Max Brass have another beautiful ARMS Belt to add to his large collection?!" 

The little girl jumped up and down out of excitement, her father laughing at her enthusiasm. "Papa, 見て！それはMax Brassです！ 私の好きな戦闘機!" She yelled, smiling brightly. The moment the match began, her attention was yanked by the screen. She watched every attack by each fighter very closely, and, for the first time that afternoon, was silent while witnessing the fight. It was like she was a completely different person than the little girl Takeo had just seen a moment ago. She seemed to analyze every movement between the fighters, and process them each very carefully. The match ended, and Max Brass was announced the winner. Again. Takeo wasn't as caught up with the ARMS league as he would like to be, but he at least knew Max Brass was the best fighter. Everyone knew that. He always won the Grand Finales in the Grand Prixs each year. Many people even considered him to be the best fighter ever, and some even declared that he was certainly unstoppable. It was proven, time and time again, that he couldn't be defeated. 

"Papa, 見て！" He nodded with her, assuring her he was watching the fight two. She clapped for Max Brass, and then began walking away. It seemed that she wanted to do something else now that Max Brass' match was over. Her father watched her disappear into a crowd of people, again, and sighed. He turned to Takeo and said, "彼女の安全を保つためにありがとう." before taking off after her. 

Takeo had a feeling that wouldn't be the last time he saw her. 

* * *

 

 ** _By the time Takeo turned 17,_** he had adapted to the idea that things were just never going to go his way. That the dream he had was never going to come true. The only good thing that had happened to him during these last few years of his life, was becoming old enough to go to college. He, of course, was going to attend Rasen Ninjutsu University. 

He moved into an apartment near the campus, far from his original home, but close enough to the school that he could get there on time whenever he had classes. He was thrilled to get away from his old home, not to mention some of the students at the school were actually rather nice. He wasn't big on talking, and didn't socialize much at all, but most people on campus were still polite to him and seemed welcoming. Even after his father left his life, years ago, the pain he caused often hung around. Even though his mother did eventually support him, Takeo never truly trusted her after keeping silent for so long about the abuse he was experiencing every day. There was only one other thing, other than leaving home, that happened to Takeo to make his life better. 

A week after Takeo moved into his own place and began registering for classes, he woke up to quite the surprise. He reached up to rub his eyes, which he always did when he was tired and when he first woke up, but froze when he heard the sound of chains. He looked around and didn't notice anyone or anything moving. He sat up to get out of bed, and sound of chains returned and it seemed like whatever was making it was right next to him. It wasn't until he looked down at himself that he noticed ** _he_** was the source of the sound. 

His arms had turned into ARMS overnight! It was a dream come true! He almost couldn't believe it was happening. He got up out of bed, put on his slippers and walked towards the mirror in his bedroom. 

He really was an ARMS fighter now. 

Or, at least he could be. Of course, he hadn't actually signed up for the ARMS league yet, but he had the potential to be apart of it now. That was enough to make him smile, and Takeo didn't smile very often. Maybe he really would be happy in life after all. 

All these years of dreaming and working hard weren't all just for nothing. Although, if he was going to actually finish college and join the ARMS league, he had to actually train so he knew how to use his ARMS and not just flail them around like an idiot. Maybe being a ninja would actually benefit him for once in his life. 

* * *

 

 ** _At the age of 21,_ ** Takeo joined the ARMS league. He was a senior at Rasen Ninjutsu University now, so his schedule was constantly filled with fights and classes, but he was happy. He was in an environment he always dreamed of being in and fighting people from across the world, just like he dreamed of doing when he was younger. he met some amazing people through the ARMS league, and his fighting skills had improved greatly. 

And, his feeling was right. He did run into Veronica again, although she was much older this time around. He was wrong about one thing, though. Just because she didn't have the spirals in her eyes didn't mean she couldn't be an ARMS fighter. She had a unique way of fixing that problem. 

Aside from Veronica, Takeo met many other amazing fighters, and made a great reputation for himself. Who would've thought Ninjutsu would actually benefit him?

Although, Now, you probably know him best as **_Ninjara._**


	4. The Ramen Bomber

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still developing and planning Master Mummy's backstory, so his will be posted after this one. I think Master Mummy's will take a little longer than some of the other characters, so I'm putting Min Min's story up for now. I don't wanna keep you guys waiting for too long.

The ARMS ability didn't have any specific causes or necessities. It could happen to anyone, anywhere, at anytime. It was strange, though. The ability occurred often enough for everyone to know about, but it wasn't something everyone just experienced. Even in the most populated country in the world, Li Hua had never seen or met anyone else in her area who had the ARMS ability. Not that it upset her, though. She already had everything she needed. Her mother, her martial arts, and...ramen. 

* * *

 

 ** _Li Hua first learned how to eat with chopsticks when she turned 4._ ** Or, at least that was when she had her best attempt at doing so. Using chopsticks wasn't easy at all. Her mother told her she didn't have to use them, but Li Hua insisted. She wanted to be just like a grown up. Just like her mommy and the customers that came into the restaurant everyday. She picked them up, and immediately dropped them. Her mother giggled, and Li Hua huffed out of frustration. She picked them up again, just barely keeping them in her grip, and attempted to pick up some noodles from the small bowl in front of her. She dropped the chopsticks again, but this time a few noodles fell with it. Her nose and cheeks turned red, as though she were about to start crying, and her mother quickly came to comfort her. 

"Li Hua, it's okay. Why don't you use a fork?" 

"I wanna use chopsticks like grownups. 'm not baby, I'm big girl!" Her mother giggled at her enthusiasm. This time, her mother guided her as she picked up the chopsticks and raised a few noodles to her mouth. Li Hua ate them and then beamed up at her parent. 

"See, 妈妈? I use grownup chopsticks!" 

She picked them up once more to eat again, and dropped them on the table, beside the food. She stood up in her chair to pick them up , putting both her hands up on the table to reach them. However, her left hand pushed down the side of her bowl, spilling some of the noodles. She gasped, and tried to put them back into the bowl, but got more of the broth of the noodles on the table and her hands. Her mother stopped her before she could wipe her little hands off on the blue overalls she was wearing. Li Hua's mother retrieved a napkin and wiped her hands for her, giggling at her daughter's behavior. 

"You're getting better with them, Li Hua, but you still need a lot of practice..." 

"I can do it now, 妈妈!" She reached for her chopsticks again, but her mother took them out of her reach. 

"Let's clean up this mess first, and then we'll find a... _cleaner_ food for you to eat." They laughed, grabbing napkins and wiping the table together. Once they finished undoing Li Hua's mess, her mother threw out the used tissues and searched for another snack. She opened the wooden cabinets, looking through jars and containers of cookies, crackers, chips, cereals, and many other things Li Hua and her family enjoyed eating in between meals. As Li Hua watched her mother scan the different options, her father walked into the room, carrying her younger sister, Chu Hua, who was just a few weeks away from being one year old. He strapped Chu Hua into her high chair, right beside Li Hua, and hugged his wife, which caused an, "EWWW!" to erupt from Li Hua, followed by laughter. "妈妈,  爸爸 gave you cooties!" 

Both of her parents laughed, her father smirking mischievously. He walked over to Li Hua and planted a kiss on her cheek, which made her gag and laugh even more. 

"Now you have cooties too, Li Hua! I'm going to give them to Chu Hua now!" 

Li Hua laughed loudly, bouncing around in her seat. 

"Don't get Chu Hua cooties! Then she'll get sick and I can't play with her no more!" 

Li Hua hopped out of chair and chased her father around the kitchen table, going in endless circles. She laughed and had a smile plastered onto her face the entire time. Her sister watched in amusement, giggling and reaching for Li Hua and their dad every time the two ran past her. Li Hua paused when she ran by Chu Hua for the 9th time, and stood up to the high chair. Chu Hua looked down at her, drool dropping from her bottom lip and her hand, which she had decided to put in her mouth. Li Hua tilted her head in confusion. She never understood why babies tried to eat everything. Chu Hua copied her movement like a mirror, and Li Hua giggled. Li Hua began copying some of the faces Chu Hua made, and laughing at her sister. Their parents watched with joy. It was amazing to see the two interacting with each other at such young ages. It was interesting to see how they resembled each other too. Both girls had dark chocolate brown hair, and puffy, smooth cheeks that were perfect for poking or kissing. They had the same smile too, one that could light up the world and showed off their pearly white teeth. One of the biggest differences between the two were their eyes. It was another thing Li Hua could never understand. Li Hua had green eyes with a black spiral in them. None of her friends in daycare had spirals in their eyes, but Li Hua was used to seeing them whenever she looked in the mirror. Chu Hua had spiral eyes too, but they were brown instead of green. 

The spirals reminded Li Hua of the ARMS fighters she'd seen on television around the ramen shop and in the living room of her home. A lot of the fighters she saw also had that spiral in their eyes. Li Hua thought it was amazing, and knew one day she'd be an ARMS fighter too. She wanted to fight alongside her sister as well, but she often got a feeling that her sister wouldn't be able to. Maybe it was because Chu Hua was still a baby, and couldn't even say her own name correctly. Li Hua hoped that as Chu Hua got older, she'd want to fight too. 

* * *

 

 ** _When Li Hua was 7 years old,_** she accidentally injured Chu Hua. Honestly, it really was an accident, Li Hua had absolutely no intention of hurting her younger sister. See, at the time, Li Hua's interest in fighting was growing rapidly. She still loved the idea of the ARMS league, but she didn't have ARMS, so she practiced a different form of fighting. Martial arts. Specifically, Chuojiao. A form of martial arts, originating in China, that was known for it's many jumps, kicks, and fast fist sequences. Li Hua was still young, so, of course, she wasn't a professional at it. She knew the only way to get better was to practice. Therefore, she practiced almost any chance she got. Before school, after school, on the weekends, sometimes even during breakfast or lunch, which often got her in trouble. 

It was on a Sunday afternoon, right after lunch. Li Hua was playing with Chu Hua in their shared bedroom. Blocks, crayons, and papers with scribbles on them were scattered across the floor. Part of the wooden floor was exposed, but most of it was covered by a red carpet that even went under the bunk bed Li Hua and Chu Hua slept in. They had been laying on the wooden part of the floor, drawing away, when Li Hua got a bright idea. She wanted her fighting skills to always be sharp. She stood up, smiling widely, and put her crayons and papers away in one of the drawers of the nightstand by their bed. 

"Chu Hua! Stand up!" 

Her younger sister, who was now 3, almost 4, looked up with a slight interest. 

"Get up, Chu Hua! Fight me!" 

Chu Hua's eyes lit up with excitement. She knew Li Hua well enough to know she loved to fight. They always play fought, and would sometimes chase each other around the house or throw toys. They often got in trouble for it, but both girls had fun, so they never stopped it. Chu Hua quickly got up, slipping on the crayons and papers she carelessly left on the floor. She began laughing as Li Hua chased her around the bedroom. After a few minutes of chasing each other, and even throwing the crayons at each other, Li Hua cornered Chu Hua by the bunk beds. Chu Hua climbed up on the bed, standing up on the bottom bunk, which belonged to her. Li Hua quickly climbed up after her. Then, Chu Hua got a grip on the ladder of that led up to Li Hua's bunk. Chu Hua began trying to climb it, stumbling and slowly getting up. Li Hua saw an opening and, without thinking of the consequences, kicked Chu Hua in her leg. 

Chu Hua began to fall off the ladder. She was falling backwards, but quickly turned in an attempt to catch herself. Ultimately, it failed, and when her arms first made contact with the floor, Li Hua could've sworn she heard something snap. She knew she had done something wrong. 

Chu Hua began to sob. 

Loud tears, with an entire world of pain behind them. She was practically yelling, failing to really make an coherent words, other than calling for her mother and father to help her. Li Hua felt absolutely awful. 

Almost instantly, her parents bursted through the bedroom door. They ran to Chu Hua's side, helping her off the floor. Her arm looked terrible. Li Hua hopped off the bed and stood next to her father, watching the two examine Chu Hua's condition. 

"What happened, Li Hua?" Her father asked her. 

If the look in Li Hua's eyes didn't give it away, the quivering of her bottom lip did. It was all her fault. Tears spilled down her cheeks faster than words spilled out her mouth as she tried to explained what happened. Her parents were not happy. Not too long afterwards, Li Hua and her family went to the hospital. Chu Hua's arms was broken. She broke her sister's arm. She didn't mean to, but she did it. Regardless of her intentions, Chu Hua's arm was broken and it was all her fault. Li Hua couldn't look anyone in the eyes for the rest of the week. It was also the first time she had ever been to a hospital, other than her delivery. 

What she didn't know was that it wouldn't be her last time there. 

* * *

 

 ** _Months after Li Hua turned 11,_** she got into her first car accident. This was the 3rd time she'd ever gone to the hospital. This time, however, it wasn't her fault. 

They were driving on the mountainside, the road curved and surrounding the mountain itself which was now to the left of the car. There was a vast forest to their right, but they were rather far up, several feet higher than it. Chu Hua was now 7, and, of course, by now, her arm was much better. She was never upset about Li Hua breaking it, but Li Hua wouldn't forgive herself for that. Nothing could possibly make Li Hua feel better especially now. At the time, her parents had been arguing, bickering for nearly half an hour. Every couple has at least one argument in all the time they're together. Li Hua just wished it didn't have to be here and now. Not to mention, the sky was dark, gloomy, and filled with grey clouds, as if a storm was just a few seconds away from letting loose. Chu Hua was fast asleep in her car seat. Li Hua wished she could fall asleep too. 

"I know you care about the restaurant and I know it's important, but it's taking up too much time. The girls are growing up so fast...I don't want them to feel neglected because we're devoting so much time to keeping Mintendo alive." Their father, who had both hands glued to the steering wheel of the vehicle, complained. 

Their mother replied, "You know how important Mintendo is to me. Don't get me wrong, the girls are everything, and they'll always be our top priorities, but Mintendo is important too. Not to mention, it's our main source of money which we need to buy food, clothes, toys, and so many other things for the girls. Mintendo was passed down from my grandmother...I want the girls to experience what it's like to work there. It's part of our family. It's tradition."

The banter continued, their voices getting a little louder each time one of them opened their mouths. Li Hua could sense the irritation in the way they both spoke. She wanted to disappear. She always hated conflict, especially if there wasn't anything she could do about it. To make it worse, their arguing were starting to effect Chu Hua, as she began to toss and turn in her car seat. If they didn't stop soon, she'd be awake and cranky because they disrupted her nap. Li Hua didn't need another unhappy person in this car, but it seemed like there was nothing she could do or say to stop their parents from speaking so loudly and so angrily at each other. 

Li Hua closed her eyes and pulled her legs in, curling up into a ball in her seat. Maybe she'd be able to fall asleep too, and when she woke up, they'd be home and all the arguing would be over. Everything would be okay again. But, of course, that would just be too easy. Just as their voices had gotten loud enough to wake Chu Hua, a car appeared up ahead. It was driving in the other lane, heading in the opposite direction of Li Hua's family's car, but it was swerving in the road, as if either the driver or the car had lost all control. Chu Hua was too tired and dazed to understand what was happening. Li Hua's parents immediately went silent, as her father tried his best to avoid the other car. It was a grey mini van, similar to the one Li Hua was currently in, and the driver inside looked just as terrified as she did. She swore she could see children in the passenger seats through the windshield too. Then, everything that could possibly go wrong happened all at once. Li Hua could hardly comprehend what was going on. 

Just as the car was about to pass Li Hua's family's van, it swerved into them, hitting the driver's side. Her father yelled in pain, and lost control of the car when the other driver's vehicle knocked them off the road, and down the mountain side. There was yelling, screaming, crying, and Li Hua could remember how everything she could see through the windows became blurred and the debris of the car swished around. Broken glass, metal pieces, and scattered belongings were pushed around inside the vehicle. Li Hua's vision became blurred and her head hurt immensely. Her legs had bruises and cuts on them too. For a moment, she could see that everyone else in the car was unconscious. All of them were silent and unresponsive. For that quick moment, Li Hua knew what it was like to truly be afraid. It was one of the only times in her life, other than her breaking Chu Hua's arm, that she felt pain. Both physically and emotionally. Before she knew it, her eyes closed. When she woke up, she was in a hospital bed instead of the car seat. The only other person in the room was her mother, who looked like she had just gone through an entire world of pain. 

And then Li Hua received news that made her understand everything her mother was feeling. 

* * *

 

 ** _When Li Hua was 14, she finally understood the passion her mother had for the family business._** Mintendo Noodle House. It was created by her grandmother, on her mother's side, and has been around for 57 years. When her grandmother created Mintendo, she built it from scratch, with the help of family and friends. That's how it became a family business. Everyone who worked there was either related to her or extremely close to her, so the communication between workers and the passion for making the food was mutual between everyone. Even now, years later, everyone who worked there was passionate about their work. Although, there weren't many people working there. Since the accident, the restaurant had lost two potential workers. The only people who worked at Mintendo now were Li Hua's mother and some of her mother's close friends whom she has known for years. 

Li Hua was almost old enough to work there. She was, however, at an age where she wanted to express herself more. She took martial arts more seriously now, realizing it was definitely something she wanted to do for the rest of her life. Her hair, which was down to her elbows, was dark brown. She had gotten it dyed not too long ago, with the permission of her mother. The top was still brown, but the further down her hair stretched, the more it turned to a lighter shade of brown. She also got bangs. Aside from that, her interest in Mintendo grew more too. She also had a bit of a habit of singing and humming to herself when she was alone, but she didn't care enough to perform for anyone, nor did she have the confidence to. 

The older Li Hua got, the more her mother discussed Mintendo and having Li Hua eventually work there. From years of being raised by a noodle-loving mom, she knew the different types of noodles, different toppings, different sauces, and, unlike her 4-year-old-self, she could actually use chopsticks to eat and enjoy them. Her mother even showed her around the kitchen of the restaurant, so when Li Hua did work there, she'd know where everything is and how to safely use everything. It certainly sounded like a lot of work, though. Li Hua wished Chu Hua and their father were around to help out. She knew her dad was gone, but, even after 3 years, she still hoped Chu Hua would come back and be able to actually spend time with her. It'd been so long, but Li Hua still had faith in her sister. Little faith, but nonetheless, some. 

One day, after school, Li Hua's mother asked her to stick around the restaurant after doing her homework so she could observe her working and get a feel for serving real customers during a real work day. It was hectic to say the least. Sure, Mintendo was popular, but you don't think about how many people come in and out of the restaurant until you've sat down and actually watched all these different people come in and out of the restaurant. It seemed like every 10 seconds, someone was walking in the door as someone else walked out. Hundreds of dishes of noodles were served in just a few hours, and the workers moved in and out of the kitchen quickly, looking busy. They all knew how to get work done. It wasn't until after a couple hours had passed that Li Hua's mother asked her to help her serve a customer. 

The two of them walked back into the kitchen area together, Li Hua immediately heading over to a sink to wash her hands in preparation for serving the customer their food. A popular way of making noodles for Li Hua and her family were hand-pulling the dough for them, and making them from scratch. They started with a big lump of dough, the kind you'd roll out and dissemble into cookies with cookie cutters. Li Hua rolled it into a long staircase railing-like shape. She took it and stretched it out, just as her mother had shown her hundreds of times before, stretching and folding it more and more until it in several long strings of dough, but still connected to each other. Once she finished stretching them, she placed them into a bowl of simmering water. Li Hua heated it, so the water was boiling, and then simmered the water again before cooking the noodles in the water for 5 minutes. Once they had finished cooking, Li Hua put them into the serving bowl, before topping it with the stew and scattering herbs all over the noodles. Her mother watched Li Hua from the kitchen as she walked over to the customer and served their meal. When she returned to the kitchen, her mother was beaming and her eyes began to water with tears of happiness. 

"妈妈, it's not that big of a deal..." 

Her mother squealed and pulled Li Hua into a bear hug, much to her dismay, swinging the teenager around in her arms. 

"I'm so proud of you, Li Hua! Look at how much you've learned! I didn't have to say anything at all, you already knew what to do to make the meal!" 

"妈妈..." Li Hua whined, but smiled and blushed lightly. She didn't like when her mother made a big deal of little things, but the compliments still felt nice to receive. 

"If it's not too much trouble..." Her mother began speaking, looking Li Hua in her beautiful green spiraled eyes, "...Would you like to start working here part time? Maybe after school and sometimes on the weekends? I don't want to take up all your free time, but it's clear that you're ready to work here." 

Li Hua stood back from her mom and nodded, which caused another squeal and hug. Li Hua really hoped that customer wasn't watching them and couldn't hear this conversation. 

* * *

 

 

 ** _Days after Li Hua's 17th birthday,_** she received a gift that out did all the presents she received on her special day. She woke up and yawned, tossing and turning in her bed before actually sitting up. She wasn't much of a morning person. Well, she was used to waking up early for school and work, but she didn't _like_ having to be a morning person. She reached up her left hand to rub her sleepy eyes, when she felt...noodles...? Li Hua had been around noodles all her life, both eating and making them, she knew what they looked and smelled like. She knew what they felt like too. She was taken by surprise when her arms felt like noodles instead of the normal skin-covered arms she had been using since birth. 

She realized it was probably because they were now ARMS instead of just arms. 

**_"WHAT?!"_ **

Li Hua always prided herself in being a calm and collected person. She'd always been able to bottle up her fear and stress when she got into unusual or tricky situations. This was not one of those times. She had noticed that most of the ARMS fighters she'd seen on television had these spirals in their eyes, but she still couldn't begin to understand what it was like to have them until she actually got ARMS. She couldn't believe she even had them, even if she'd kind of predicted she'd get them. It was like a dream and a nightmare come true. 

 She hopped out of bed, keeping her eyes glued to her new limbs. She couldn't believe it. This couldn't possibly be real. She walked to the mirror in the bathroom which was just down the hall from her bedroom. Li Hua was careful to not make any noise that would catch the attention of her mother, who was in her bedroom getting dressed for the day. Li Hua walked in, turned on the light in the bathroom, and pushed the door shut with her body. She wasn't even going to try using her ARMS. She's seen how destructive and crazy they can be on television. She nearly jumped out of her skin when she saw her reflection in the mirror above the sink. Was that really her? 

Her long brown hair was now blonde and...made of ramen...just like her ARMS. She let out a shriek that could wake the dead. Her mother let out one in response before running to the bathroom and yanking the door open. 

Both stared at each other in shock and silence for a few minutes. 

"...What happened?" Her mother finally broke the silence, eyes still wide. 

Li Hua looked at her like she was insane. **_"I DON'T KNOW!._**..H-How do I change them back?! How do I change my hair back?! I look ridiculous!" 

Her mother put her hand on Li Hua's shoulder and guided her into her parents' bedroom. Her mother tried to shush her as she picked up the phone and dialed the number for the ARMS league she'd seen a million times on television. Li Hua was a babbling mess of confusion and concern, incoherent mumbling was the only sound she could even produce. She was too scared to even try to move her ARMS. 

* * *

 

Now, at the age of 18, Li Hua had honed her skills with her ARMS and was ready to take on the world of ARMS fighters. As her career of being a professional fighter in the ARMS league grew, she traveled across the world and met tons of great people. She even became one of the strongest members of the ARMS league, becoming one of the biggest faces in the sport. 

It took some time, and sometimes she wished Chu Hua was there beside here, but it was best not to dwell on it. She felt happiest when she was fighting for herself, her family, her restaurant, and her friends, who had brought her so much joy and made her life so much better. 

Now, though, you probably know her as **_Min Min_**. 

 


	5. The Scrapyard Scrapper

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said Master Mummy would be next, but he's literally a mummy so his backstory takes a little more research and writing than some of the others. I'm not even going to bother to have this fan fiction in order anymore, I just don't want to keep you guys waiting too long.
> 
> I also used Google Translate for the bits of Japanese used here, so apologies for any errors.

The ARMS league was made up of those who could use ARMS. It was common enough for it to be known around the world, and have an entire league dedicated to using ARMS, but there was no guarantee every person would have this ability. One girl, born without the spiraled-eyes that typically led to having the ARMS ability, learned a way to get herself into the league, even without the well-known ability. All it took was some work, dedication, and a lot of dreaming. 

* * *

 

 ** _When Veronica was 3, her father discovered her love for building._** She was still little at the time, and, of course, couldn't perform majority of the scientific experiments her father did, but it was always interesting to watch her try to do her own. She'd take blocks and stack them, sometimes even making different towers and shapes all over her playroom. It was a nightmare to clean up, but making the mess was always fun. She'd build with the blocks, then observe them by looking around at them and making notes to herself, then adjust her buildings. Really, it was her building, looking at her buildings, babbling with a few coherent words here and there, and then adding more blocks to her creations or knocking entire towers over. It was funny to her father, but, in her eyes, she really was a scientist doing real science experiments. Sometimes, she'd even take pieces of paper and scribble all over them, as if taking notes on her creations, just like her father did with his. She couldn't quite hold her markers correctly, and she couldn't form any actual letters, let alone words or sentences, but it made her happy. 

On one particular afternoon, while Veronica was "observing" her "experiments," her father, who was supposed to be watching over her, figured it couldn't hurt for him to go into the basement for just a moment. Veronica's playroom, which was now covered in nothing but building blocks, markers missing their caps, and crumpled pieces of paper with illegible writing, was a somewhat open area. When you entered the house through the front door, and walked in a couple steps, to the left was a small staircase made up of 5 or 6 steps which led into Veronica's playroom. On the right side of the room, there was a door which led to a hallway. The first door on the left in the hallway led to the laundry room. The second door, on the right side of the hallway, led to a bathroom. At the very end of the hallway, there was a big door that led to the backyard where Veronica would go to play on sunny days with her father. However, just before that door, there was one on the right side of the hallway. It led to the basement of the house. Her father was in such a hurry that he left the door leading to the hallway open. Not that it mattered, though, as Veronica could open doors herself. She could just barely reach the door knob, but she always managed to find a way to twist it to get the door open. She wandered down the hallway, following the light coming the basement and the sound of objects and tools being moved around. When she got to the basement door, she carefully began walking down the small staircase that led into the basement. She would've gotten away with sneaking into the room if she hadn't lost her balance on the very last step, and fallen onto the wooden floor. 

The sudden fall let out a large thump sound throughout the room. She had also brought her favorite yellow marker with her, which had been dropped in her fall. The cap fell off on impact, and rolled away. She quickly got up, looking as though she could burst into tears. It didn't seem like she was seriously hurt, but the fall left a scratch on her left knee and scared her quite a bit. Her eyes watered and her lip quivered. Just as she was about to break into a sob, her father quickly rushed over, picking her up. He rocked her in his arms for a moment, trying to comfort her. She laid her head against his shoulder, letting a few tears roll down her cheeks. After a moment, she relaxed, sitting her head up on his shoulder and looking around the room. She'd seen the basement a couple times before, but each instance she was ushered out by her father, who insisted it was far too dangerous for her to play around in. He wasn't wrong. There were tools and electrical wires everywhere, which were things a toddler should never be near. She couldn't help but feel drawn to it all, though. She enjoyed being with her dad, and the flashy lights easily caught her attention, but Veronica was also drawn to the tools themselves. She loved to watch her father work, and she loved how passionate he was about everything he did and made. She didn't quite understand all the technical aspects of building and inventing, but she certainly wanted to. Even so, that wouldn't stop her father from lecturing her. 

"Veronica...You know you aren't supposed to be down here. It's not safe for you. You can't touch at this stuff, and you certainly can't walk down the steps by yourself yet." 

"はい." 

That was her only reply. She'd heard him say this enough to understand she wasn't supposed to be down here, but she couldn't quite use many words on her own yet. "はい," was really one of the only words in her vocabulary. 

"How did you fall, anyways? Your coordination's been almost perfect these last couple of weeks....Wait..."

He realized what had caused her fall.

Looking down at the floor, he noticed two white, fluffy slippers lying on the floor where she had fallen. She must've been wearing these, which threw off her balance. Her mother's slippers. They were, of course, much larger than her feet, and clearly made to fit someone several years older than her. She still felt attached to them, though. She often worse them around the house, much to her father's dismay. They made him worry she'd fall, much like she had just done, and they reminded him of Veronica's mother, who had passed away giving birth to her. It was odd how Veronica had technically never officially met her mother, but still felt this connection to her. Her father had even gone out of his way to buy several slippers that would actually fit her, but her mother's slippers were the only ones she'd use. She'd wear the ones her father would buy for a day or two, and then be seen showing off her mom's slippers again. It was hard to tell why she wore them at first. She was a silly child, so maybe it was because she understood they were too big for her. Or, Maybe she wore them because she could tell they belonged to someone important to her. She was too young to really understand it or explain it. 

"...Let's get you back upstairs, okay? I'll help you with your blocks." 

He got down on his knees and leaned Veronica over enough for her to pick up the marker and slippers off the floor. He picked up the marker cap and carried her back into her playroom. He put her down once they had reached her playroom, and shut the door behind them. She put her mother's slippers back on and walked over to the papers she had left on the floor, scribbling on them with her yellow marker, and looking around at her blocks every now and then, much like how she had seen her father observe his creations. 

He sat on the floor beside her, watching her write. 

"Veronica...私のような発明者になりたいですか？" 

"はい, パパ!" 

She beamed up at him, which caused him to smile back, giggling. 

"Okay." He replied, ruffling her hair a bit, and grinning as it made her laugh. She reached up to him, and began messing with his hair, although it was a lot less graceful and comforting than when he did it. The two burst into fits of laughter, and spent the rest of the day playing together. 

* * *

 

 ** _When Veronica was 8, she lost her father in a crowd of people for the millionth time in her life._** She made it a habit to simply walk away from him whenever she found something that interested her. At first, it stressed her father out greatly, but he quickly came to realize she'd always come back, safe and sound. 

At the time, they were visiting a more rural area in Japan to see family. After they had arrived at Veronica's grandmother's house, it was discovered that her grandmother was running low on several groceries after trying to cook for their family, which included her grandfather, several aunts, uncles, and cousins. Her father had volunteered to get more groceries himself, and brought Veronica with him so she could explore a bit. As they walked through the small town, a nearby shop with several televisions in the window caught her attention. She had been walking in the crowd, keeping a good grip on her father's hand, but when she saw the televisions, she let go and disappeared into the wave of people, which sent her father into a bit of panic.

He knew it would happen eventually, but he still worried for his daughter's safety. 

She approached the televisions and glued her attention to them, as they were broadcasting her favorite thing to watch: ARMS Fights. 

The ARMS league was the most popular league in the world, with ARMS fighting, of course, being the most popular sport. It brought fighters from every corner of the planet together to fight for fun and for glory. It was amazing to watch, and Veronica wished with all her heart that she could be a part of it. For now, though, until she found a way to get her, "ARMS," the best she could do was sit back and study the fights. She noticed every single detail in every fighter, and even kept notebooks in her bedroom of mini profiles she had written on the fighters she saw on television. She noted their spiral eyes, whatever material their ARMS were made of, their abilities, their typical fighting styles and strategies, she had everything down to a science. Almost quite literally. 

The one thing she didn't notice, however, was the teenager next to her. 

He was sitting on his bike, and seemed to have switched his attention from the ARMS fight on the small tv's to Veronica, who wasn't paying him any mind. He got off of his bike and crouched down to Veronica's height. She noticed the sudden movement, and turned to him, furrowing her brows in confusion. 

It didn't take her long to process that he wasn't a threat. He didn't look any older than 15. Veronica was decently good at reading people, and she could tell he was simply trying to be cautious and calm, as not to scare her. He looked like he was thinking of what to say, and Veronica was starting to grow a little impatient. It was obvious he wanted to speak to her, but the longer he took, the less time she had to enjoy the fight on the TV before being dragged away to do more shopping. She remained quiet, though, and stared him down in his red, spiraled eyes, trying to show she was ready to listen to whatever he had to say. 

Finally, he spoke up. 

"ご両親はどこにいますか？" 

She pushed some of her fluffy, brown hair out her face, and pointed to her father, who was standing by a food stand. He was scanning the crowd as quickly as he could, searching for Veronica, and looked as though he were ready to break into a full-on panic from not being able to find her. 

"ここで待ちなさい." She nodded at the boy, and he walked away. She assumed he'd return, because he had left his bike right where it was when Veronica first spotted it. She shrugged, and turned back to the televisions, watching the fight as it continued. She missed a good part of it, but it wasn't over yet, so it's not like it was the end of the world. The crowd around her seemed to vanish as all of her senses focused on the match. 

After what felt like an eternity passed, she felt a hand slip into hers. She looked down at it, then up at the owner of the hand, who turned out to be her father. He seemed to be more relaxed now that he actually knew where his daughter was. She smiled at him, which made him smile back. She almost immediately turned her full attention back to the fight. It was hard to focus, because she could hear the voices of her father and the teenager speaking to each other, even over the volume of the fight and her copying the announcer's voices. 

A moment passed, and the voices of the people next to her seemed to quiet down again. The teenager who helped her father find her bent down beside Veronica and watched the fights with her. The ARMS announcer, Biff, popped up on screen, and introduced the contenders who would be fighting in the next match. It showed a female fighter who Veronica had seen a million times before on television and in various videos online. Veronica even wrote a page about her, much like the other fighters, in one of her notebooks at home, with a detailed description and a not-so-neat drawing of her. Next, Biff introduced Max Brass, a man who needed no introduction. 

Veronica listened closely as Biff spoke. 

"The Commish, Max Brass! Back to defend his title as Champion! Will his opponent win, or will Max Brass have another beautiful ARMS belt to add to his large collection?!" 

Veronica couldn't contain her excitement. She jumped up and down, which made her father laugh. "Papa, 見て！それはMax Brassです！ 私の好きな戦闘機!" 

She yelled, smiling brightly. The moment the countdown began and the fight started, she went dead silent. She watched every move closely, and nearly predicted each movement based on the strategies of the fighters she had studied several times before. Minutes passed, and Max Brass was announced the winner, to nobody's surprise. His profile had taken up several pages in her notebooks. Max Brass was always the Champion. He always won the Grand Prix's. Veronica didn't have a doubt in her mind that he wouldn't win. 

"Papa, 見て！"

Her father nodded, chuckling. She clapped for Max Brass, giving him an applause of her own. Now that the fight was over, though, she felt like exploring the area more. She turned and walked away, letting go of her father's hand. He shook his head, sighing. He turned to Takeo and said...something. Veronica had walked pretty far, she couldn't quite make it out. It didn't take long for her to pick up on the sound of her father's foot steps, though. 

He held his hand out, and she intertwined it with her own, continuing to walk. She'd have to update her notes when she got home. She needed them all to be up-to-date, and now that Max Brass had one another match, she had to update his number of wins. Before that, though, her and her father would have to survive their shopping trip. 

. . .

The two paused and turned to each other, sharing the same look of confusion. 

They both opened their mouths and spoke at the same time. 

"私たちは何を買っていたのですか？" 

* * *

 

 ** _After Veronica turned 12, she lost something very important to her._** She was in class, sitting with some friends, and eating lunch with them at their desks. As usual, she had brought some of her ARMS notebooks to school. There were several of them, and each had profiles and drawings of nearly every single fighter in the league. Her note-taking dated back to when she was 6, although her note-taking skills have improved greatly. By now, her hand writing was much neater, her grammar in her descriptions made much more sense, and her pictures were a little more neat and accurate. She was proud of them, honestly, and most of her friends at school seemed to be impressed by them, too. Sure, they loved the ARMS league too, but her amount of interest in it was truly on another level. 

 

She reached in her desk and took out her pencil and eraser, setting it on her desk, beside her lunch box, and then reached in again for her notebook.

. . .

Which wasn't there. 

She paused, and got out of her chair, crouching down to see inside of it. It wasn't there at all. She could have sworn she left it there. She always did. It was impossible to miss. A big, yellow composition notebook, with her name written in big, bold letters in black sharpie. It even had little pictures of Biff and various logos of ARMS fighters drawn across the cover in several different sharpie colors. All of her notebooks were drawn on like that. It was part of what made them so unique to her. What could have happened to this one?

 

She looked around, and it didn't seem like it had fallen on the floor. It wasn't on anyone else's desk, and she knew she had put it in her school bag, so she didn't leave it at home. Now, she was kinda starting to panic. She sat back in her seat, looking much more uncomfortable than she was before. She opened her school bag, which hung on a hook attached to the right side of her desk, and quickly looked for it. She saw other journals, some of which were actually used for her classes, pencils, water bottles, markers, pens, and folders. She was glad to have all that, but that wasn't what she was looking for. Suddenly, she felt a tap on her shoulder. Her head whipped up to see her friends all staring at her, confused. 

One of them spoke up. 

"なにが問題ですか？" 

"私はメモを見つけることができません!"

They immediately understood her panic. They all got up from their seats and searched the classroom with her. It wasn't under any of the desks, it wasn't in the closet, it wasn't inside anyone else's desk, and it wasn't in anyone's bags. Now, Veronica looked like she could cry. She decided to go to the bathroom to calm herself down, and on her way there, a boy in her class and one of his friends caught her attention. She froze in the hallway of the school and watched the two, quickly recognizing the object in the boy's hand.

It was her notebook. 

When did he even get it? 

He was flipping through the pages, and him and his friends were...laughing at it. Laughing at the notes, the drawings, the attention to details of each fighter. Something about that made her want to scream. She wanted to cry, yell, and snatch the book right out of his hand. And she did. She walked right up to them, and snatched it out of his grip, closing the notebook and holding it tight in her hands. She held back her tears, though, and raised her voice just loud enough to sound intimidating.

"なぜあなたは私の雑誌を持っていますか？" 

His friend broke into a laugh, which made him snicker and smirk. 

"あなたのものです？ あなたはまっすぐな学生ですよね？ 私はあなたがこれほど恐ろしいものを作ることを期待しません。 あなたはもっと良いことがありませんか？"  

She shoved him to the floor, which made his friend push her. The boy got up, and walked closer to her, clearly angry. He looked like he was going to push her, to hit her right in the face without a second though, but then a teacher in the classroom they happened to be outside of walked out and stood between them. The boy gave a glare to Veronica and walked off with his friend. Mechanica thanked the teacher and walked back to her classroom, keeping her notebook close to her. She sat down and ate silently for the remainder of the lunch period. From that day on, she decided she was just going to keep her journals at home. That way, she wouldn't be hurt like was now. 

* * *

 

 ** _When Veronica turned 15,_** she entered the ARMS league with her mech. One of the greatest inventions she had ever made (with help from her father, of course). It was huge, yellow, and when she got into the machine, the cushions of the seat swaddled her like a newborn baby in a crib. She was excited to use it in her very first fight. She walked out into the sunlight, the cameras and audience turning their attention to her. She stood at the bottom of the scrapyard, smiling to the crowd, beaming at her fans. Her opponent walked out, a green-haired, red-eyed boy who the announcer introduced as Ninjara. The Student of Stealth. 

Why did he seem so familiar? 

The fight roared on, both contenders taking several hits from the other. At one point, Mechanica got the high ground on the scrapyard and activated her Rush attack, unleashing a flurry of hits on Ninjara. He took several of them, and began to look weak, like he might KO soon. As the attack ended, he was knocked to the ground, and took a moment to get back up. 

He used his ability, disappearing and reappearing out of puffs of smoke, and grabbed Mechanica's mech. When he pulled her towards him, they made eye contact, and suddenly knew exactly who the other was. They remembered exactly where and how they had met.

The boy at the market on his bike, and the girl who had wandered off from her dad. 

Before he could even say a word about it, he had thrown her to the ground to finish his attack. She got back up, dashed away, and grabbed him herself, hitting him several times with her ARMS, and sending him flying across the stage. When he hit the ground, he KO'd. 

Biff spoke up from his spectator seat. 

"And the win goes to the one and only Mechanica!" 

 

 

 


End file.
